


You Say It's Your Birthday

by paperscribe



Category: Lewis (TV)
Genre: Birthday, Community: lewis_challenge, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-10
Updated: 2014-01-10
Packaged: 2018-01-08 06:39:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1129497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paperscribe/pseuds/paperscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lewis wants to help James celebrate his birthday. Things don't go as planned.  Written for the Lewis_challenge 2013 Secret Santa exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fortesomniare (Somniare)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Somniare/gifts).



"Your birthday's next week."

James looked up from his work to meet Lewis's eyes. "It is."

Lewis squinted, and James suspected Lewis was trying to work out his age. "Thirty-four?"

"Thirty-five," James said.

"Thirty-five!" Lewis nodded. "Good year."

James shrugged. "Any year I live to get older is a good year."

Lewis frowned at him. "That's a bit morbid, isn't it?"

"In this line, sir, I'd say it's practical."

Lewis nodded, acknowledging his point. "So. Got any plans?"

"I'll probably buy myself a book. I've had my eye on Zadie Smith's latest for some time now."

Lewis stared at him almost pityingly. "You're going to spend your birthday reading a book?"

"Makes a change from getting drunk and running round Oxford in my pants," James said.

He was rewarded with a snort of laughter. Lewis knew as well as James did that James would never be drunk enough for that.

"You're not reading. We're going out," Lewis said.

"Out where?" James asked warily.

"Leave it to me. I'll arrange everything," Lewis said.

"That's very kind, but I couldn't possibly take advantage," James said. Underneath all the politeness, he was a bit concerned about what Lewis might see as properly celebratory. It might be anything from Barry Manilow (dire) to some sort of speed dating (horribly dire).

"It'll be something you like. Don't worry," Lewis said.

"What do you think I'd like?" Surprises made James nervous.

"Never mind," Lewis said. "It wouldn't be a proper birthday present if you knew what it was ahead of time."

"Do you promise it won't be embarrassing?"

"Course it won't. I'm not showing everyone your baby pictures."

"Not my first thought, but comforting enough, I suppose."

"Wait and see," Lewis said with a grin.

James supposed he would have to.

**

On James's birthday, Lewis set a plate on James's desk. James looked down to see something small and chocolate with a candle protruding crookedly from the top.

"What's this?" James asked.

"It's meant to be a birthday cake," Lewis said apologetically, "but it turned out a bit more like chocolate soup."

James smiled at Lewis, pleased by the gesture. "You made me a cake."

"Don't feel you have to eat it," Lewis said. "It's not a proper cake."

"I think it's very nice," James said, watching as the candle slumped and fell over.

"I didn't light the candle cos I thought it might set the cake on fire."

"Cake isn't usually flammable," James said, amused.

"Best not to take chances with mine," Lewis said.

"Why didn't you ask me for help?"

"What sort of surprise is that?" Lewis said indignantly. "Me asking you to help make your birthday cake. Might as well tell you to do it."

"If you want, I'll drop by this weekend and show you how to bake a cake," James said. "It takes a little practise, that's all."

Lewis looked at the cake, which had slowly begun to puddle out toward the edges of the plate. "Sorry about that."

"I know you don't like to cook," James said. "I'm flattered that you'd do it for me."

"It's your birthday," Lewis said staunchly. "Birthdays are important."

"I don't know," James said. "Once you're past twenty, some of the bloom is off the rose."

"You just don't know how to have a proper birthday celebration," Lewis said.

"And you do?"

Lewis nodded. "Matter of fact, I do."

"I take it that the cake is only stage one, then?"

"After work, you and I are going down the pub for a drink and a bite to eat. Then we're going to a concert."

James raised his eyebrows, surprised. "What sort of concert?"

Lewis produced two tickets from his pocket, handing them to James. "Have a look."

James read the name of the band aloud. "Great Big Sea?"

"They're a Canadian folk band. They play sort of…modernised sea chanteys and such."

"That…actually does sound interesting," James said.

Lewis snorted. "Thanks!"

"No, I meant…you and I don't often share tastes in music." James looked at the tickets again. "This was really thoughtful. Thank you."

Innocent leaned into the office. "Reports on the Szalinski case?"

"Nearly done," James said.

"You'll have them by the end of the day, ma'am," Lewis said.

"Good," Innocent said. Then she noticed the puddle of cake on James's desk. "What's that?"

"Birthday cake," James said. Lewis grimaced.

"Good Lord, is it really?" Innocent said, staring at it. "Whose birthday?"

James lifted his hand.

"Happy birthday," Innocent said. "You should've mentioned it. I would've collected funds round the office."

"That's really not necessary," James said.

"Well, it'd be better than that, anyway," Innocent said, nodding to the cake.

"It was made with the best intentions," James said.

Innocent was Chief Superintendent for a reason. Her gaze shifted to Lewis, who by now was looking deeply embarrassed, and then her gaze returned to James. "Oh, I see. You know, Robbie, if you needed help with a cake, you could've asked me."

"Does everyone know how to bake cakes but me?" Lewis said, exasperated.

"Yes," Innocent said with a nod. She gave them both a stern look. "I want those reports on my desk, end of the day today."

"Yes, ma'am," both men said.

James glanced at the attempted cake. He'd meant to have a bite or two, just to be polite…but perhaps he'd better not eat it after all.

**

The pub was crowded but bearable when James and Lewis arrived.

"Service might be a bit slow tonight," they were told apologetically. "We're training new staff."

"That's all right," Lewis said with a grin. "Everyone's got to start somewhere." He turned to James. "The concert's just down the road. We can walk quickly if we have to."

James was aware that Lewis intended to treat him, so he ordered a modestly-priced meal despite Lewis's hints that he should spring for something more special or more expensive.

"This is what I like," James told Lewis, folding his menu and returning it to their waiter.

"Waste of a birthday dinner, if you ask me," Lewis grumbled, though James noticed Lewis ordered exactly the same thing.

"Well, it's my party, and I'll cry if I want to," James joked.

"Did you eat any of the cake I made you?"

James hesitated. "No."

"Then you won't cry."

James chuckled.

Their waiter, a bloke called Andrew, was fast and got their orders right. He did, however, suffer from the unfortunate malady of not knowing where his arms, hands, and items he was carrying were at all times. On three separate occasions, he managed to hit James in the back of the head with his tray, dump a pot of coffee in his lap, and lose half a plate of chips down the back of James's jacket.

"Maybe I should sit over there," Lewis said, regarding James with some concern.

"And deprive me of all this?" James said. "Really, sir, I wish you'd let me have my fun."

Thankfully, Andrew had no further incidents at their table that evening, though James did see him spill something green on a man's toupee later on. The food was good, and James had only a small bump forming where the tray and his head had met.

"I'm never coming here on trainee night again," Lewis said grimly. "I'm sorry."

"It was a good meal," James said. "Thank you."

"Any better and they would've poured fondue down your shirt," Lewis said.

"Good for the skin," James said.

**

The concert venue was a dimly lit club with a collection of tables scattered round the floor. They managed to procure one of the last tables before the place filled.

"I have to ask," James said. "How did you hear about a Canadian band specialising in sea chanteys?"

"I wasn't looking for that exact thing," Lewis said. "I was looking for concerts on your birthday night you might like. You like world music and fusions of…things. I thought this might be a good fit."

"Do you like them?" James asked.

"Haven't heard them," Lewis admitted. "So I'll be surprised as well."

Great Big Sea didn't disappoint. They alternated between ballads and rollicking up-tempo songs, during which James tapped his fingers on his leg along with the rhythm. He'd no idea how Lewis had managed to pick a band he liked so much without knowing what their music sounded like, but he'd done a brilliant job.

When they left the club, James was quietly humming one of the songs to himself, a somewhat ribald one about a sailor falling in love with a mermaid. Lewis was silent.

"You didn't like the music," James said.

Lewis looked at James in surprise. "You did?"

"I thought it was good," James said with a nod.

"Not very festive," Lewis said. "Songs about working in a chemical plant."

"There was only one song like that, and it was fine," James said. "Anyway, melancholy and birthdays go well together."

"Maybe, but that's not what I meant to happen," Lewis said.

James was quiet for a moment. "Come on. We'll have a drink."

"No. I'm not going back. Andrew might still be there," Lewis said.

James laughed. "I meant to my flat."

"Oh. Well. That should be all right," Lewis said with a nod.

**

"Suppose there's no point asking if you had a good birthday," Lewis said, nursing his ale.

"Of course I did," James said.

"You did? With the chips down the shirt and no cake and songs about…who knows what?"

James smiled. "It was all very memorable."

"You were right," Lewis said. "Next year I won't try to make plans. Reading Zadie Smith probably would've been safer." He sighed, setting aside his beer. "I just wanted your birthday to be special."

"It was special," James said. "You asked me to a concert. That alone would…" He paused, putting the facts together. "You asked me to a concert."

"You've just said that," Lewis said.

James regarded Lewis thoughtfully. "Does that mean what I think it means?"

Lewis was the very picture of nonchalance. "What d'you think it means?"

"You have a certain pattern of behaviour with respect to concerts," James said. "It seems to me you only ask people to go to concerts who you have certain…romantic feelings for. Need I go on?"

Lewis glanced at James, all bravado gone, then looked down. "Happy birthday?"

James was startled into a smile by Lewis's response. "It is, I think." He reached over and touched Lewis's hand.

Lewis looked up and smiled.


	2. We're Gonna Have a Good Time

_When last we left our heroes…_

_"You have a certain pattern of behaviour with respect to concerts," James said. "It seems to me you only ask people to go to concerts who you have certain…romantic feelings for. Need I go on?"_

_Lewis glanced at James, all bravado gone, then looked down. "Happy birthday?"_

_James was startled into a smile by Lewis's response. "It is, I think." He reached over and touched Lewis's hand._

_Lewis looked up and smiled._

"You wouldn't have told me if I hadn't guessed?" Hathaway asked quietly.

Lewis shrugged. "I was trying to set a mood. Ended up setting a mood all right, but not the one I meant to."

Hathaway took Lewis's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You don't think you being with me was more important than the mood?"

Lewis looked at Hathaway, startled. "Was it?"

Hathaway nodded. 

"Oh," Lewis said softly. "Didn't know that."

"You meant to be romantic."

"A bit," Lewis admitted. "Yeah."

Hathaway thought there was something utterly endearing about Lewis attempting to arrange a romantic evening for two while Hathaway remained unawares.

"Well," he said, leaning closer to Lewis, "this is romantic, isn't it?"

Lewis nodded, swallowing visibly.

Hathaway moved closer, voice quiet. "So? What happens next?"

"What do you want to happen?" Lewis asked quietly. "It's your birthday."

"Well, since you ask…" Hathaway moved Lewis's arms so that they were around him in a gentle embrace. "I think this would be a good place to begin."

"You'll get no complaints from me," Lewis said softly.

Slowly, carefully, Hathaway snuggled against Lewis, hugging him in return. "And this is all right?"

"Yes," Lewis whispered, sounding as though he'd waited a long time for this.

Hathaway closed his eyes. "You should've asked me to a concert ages ago."

"Didn't know I wanted to ages ago," Lewis said quietly. "Besides, you might've said no."

"Only if it was Barry Manilow," Hathaway said.

Lewis groaned. "You're never going to let me forget that, are you?"

"No," Hathaway said with a smile. "Never."

"I'll remember that when you get us tickets to see bloody Kraftwerk."

Hathaway couldn't help laughing. "There's nothing wrong with Kraftwerk."

"Says you," Lewis said affectionately.

"Complain all you like when I drag you to the Didmarton Bluegrass Festival. I'm still going to do it, now I know you can be coerced into stepping outside your comfort zone."

"Don't even know what bluegrass is," Lewis said. "Seems you're always off to some music festival or other."

"I love music," Hathaway said.

Tentatively, Lewis leaned his cheek against Hathaway's head. "I know."

Hathaway smiled. "It was a thoughtful gift, the tickets. I wish you'd had a better time."

"Couldn't concentrate much on the music, could I?" Lewis asked. "You were right next to me and I was trying to work out what I should do, or whether I should do anything at all."

Hathaway moved to look at Lewis's face. "You were?"

Lewis nodded. "Mm-hmm."

"Didn't know you went in for public displays of affection."

Lewis cleared his throat, embarrassed. "Ordinarily not. But I thought you might."

Hathaway smiled. "I wouldn't mind. It doesn't have to be anything big. Holding hands would be fine, if that's something you'd feel comfortable with."

"My arm around you?" Lewis asked, sounding vulnerable.

Hathaway nodded. "I'll take that any time it's offered."

Lewis looked pleased. "I'll remember." He shifted his weight where he sat, clearly working up to something. "You wouldn't happen to want a birthday kiss?"

"I'd never turn one down from you, sir," Hathaway said.

Lewis winced.

"What?"

"Wish you wouldn't call me sir when I'm about to kiss you," Lewis said. "It makes me feel I'm doing something wrong. As though I'm corrupting you."

"I'm open to being corrupted."

"That's not what I mean. And it's not a joke." He sounded agitated now. "I don't want you doing this because you think you have to."

"I don't think I have to," Hathaway said, surprised by Lewis's adamance. "In fact, I know I don't have to. I'm choosing this as much as you are."

"I'm sorry," Lewis said. "Didn't mean to get snappy."

Hathaway shook his head. "It's all right. I think I understand what you mean. No 'sir' when we're off duty, then?"

Lewis gave Hathaway a relieved look. "If you don't mind."

"What should I call you?"

"What's wrong with Robbie?"

Hathaway winced. "I don't know if I could do that. It seems…impolite."

"I call you James all the time."

Hathaway ran his fingers along Lewis's arm. "What about an endearment of some sort?"

"How is that more formal than calling me by name?"

Hathaway blushed. "…I like endearments." He glanced at Lewis, whose eyes were very affectionate now.

"Do you?" Lewis asked.

"Haven't had much chance to use them," Hathaway admitted, "but I…always thought I'd like to."

"Long as it's not too soppy, you can call me anything you like," Lewis said.

Hathaway couldn't resist. "Sugarplum's all right, isn't it?"

Lewis grimaced. "I suppose if you have to…"

"No, I don't like that one either," Hathaway said. He lowered his eyes, not sure he could look at Lewis while he was talking about this. 

"Can I ask…please don't call me 'dearie'. Makes me think I'm in hospital," Lewis said.

Hathaway chuckled. "That wasn't on my list anyway. I was thinking something more along the lines of darling or sweetie."

"I can live with that," Lewis said with a nod. "I'm glad you told me. Never would've guessed it was so important to you."

"Well, it isn't something you'd discuss ordinarily, is it? Whether or not you like pet names?" Hathaway asked.

"No." Lewis paused. "Do you have something in mind you'd like to be called?"

Hathaway could feel himself blushing. "I…can I think about it?"

"Course you can," Lewis said, giving Hathaway a little squeeze. "No time limit on that."

"Besides," Hathaway said, "I've distracted you."

"How d'you mean?" Lewis asked.

Hathaway smiled at him. "You were going to give me a birthday kiss."

"Well. We wouldn't want to forget that," Lewis said.

"No, we wouldn't," Hathaway agreed. He leaned forward, eyelids half-lowered, lips parted in anticipation.

As he always did, Lewis met him halfway.


End file.
